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Derp
A mass of seemingly cobbled together armor marches down the road into town, leading an obviously tired horse by the reins. Its figure or features are indistinguishable beneath the metal, yet its hand strokes the chin of the helmet in a universal sign of deep though. Faux did not understand what they were doing wrong. Three towns and six taverns had offered not a single quest nor noble endeavor to speak of, not even a dragon raising trouble among the herds. This was all highly irregular. After all, this was Taldor, by Faux's understanding, every knight worth their salt came here to prove their worth. No matter, Noble is tired and the town is just ahead. Surely tenth time is the charm. Without further ado, Faux makes a beeline to the local tavern. After handing off Noble Steed to the first stable boy who presents themselves, Faux throws open the doors to the tavern and announces: "...Please?" |